Rationality
by Wordsplat
Summary: In which Steve gets jealous, Tony gets ridiculous, and Bucky challenges Tony to a duel to prove his worthiness. Oneshot, TonyxSteve


Steve considered himself an altogether rational sort of man.

He was entrusted to lead the Avengers, after all. He wasn't indecisive or impatient. He didn't tend to fall prey to any vices, be it drinking or drugs or sex, even before the serum. He was adaptive, and had managed to acclimate to the future with minimal panic attacks. He still found himself a touched depressed from time to time, but he met with a therapist once every three months like all the Avengers did, and he had been deemed as altogether perfectly functional. Rational.

What was not rational, was to be jealous of a pen.

It wasn't his fault, not really. It wasn't his fault Tony kept twirling the pen, nimble fingers darting back and forth like a master musician, conducting a concerto in his brilliant mind. It wasn't his fault Tony kept fiddling with it, running a calloused thumb over the cap, the lines of his hands tensed and angular. It wasn't his fault Tony would touch it to his lower lip, nibbling on it lightly when he got an idea.

It most certainly wasn't his fault the way Tony would let the tip slip into his mouth, languidly tracing it with his tongue…

A flipping.

Pen.

Steve ducked his head, trying to refocus his attention on the half-finished sketch in his lap. But his mind kept drifting back to Tony, sitting just a few feet away in the workshop. The way he ran his rough, lanky hands over his latest project. The way that stupid pen poked erect from his mouth while he worked.

This was not rational, he reminded himself.

It took him a moment to realize what exactly he'd been busying himself sketching, and when he did, he could have groaned in irritation. The sharp angle of the jaw, the soft lines of the cheekbones, the affectionate, teasing smirk of the lips…

Of _course_ he'd drawn Tony.

Might as well go for broke; he detailed the curve of his brow, the soft wave of his ruffled hair, and the shape of the eyes. Something about Tony's eyes were…poignant. Uniquely sharp, with more than intelligence and drive, something Tony-esque that Steve couldn't quite identify. Regardless, he didn't want to do it mediocrely, so he put it off until later.

He knew, of course, from experience. He'd drawn Tony a million different times, a million different ways. He hadn't meant to, at least not in the beginning. He'd just gotten carried away thinking about the tense lines of Tony's shoulders, the shifting colors of his eyes in the light, the flutter of his dark eyelashes over pronounced cheekbones. Purely artistic inspiration. Really. Of course, even Steve had to notice that it was a little much, eventually.

Eventually, of course, meant around two months later, when Steve realized he had an entire notebook of Tony on his hands.

This was around six months after the Avengers came together. They were still fairly antagonistic back then, still trying to poke and prod at open wounds, feel out each other's weaknesses. They were better, though; the first month or so of the Avengers, they had been all but out to kill each other. In the third month it wasn't so much that they stopped wanting to kill each other, as much as they all moved in together and the close quarters taught them they might actually get along pretty well if they let themselves.

Then they just wanted to kill each other because it was easier than admitting they'd been wrong.

Steve had eventually boned up and apologized, knowing full well Tony never would. It had gone over about as well as expected, Tony gloating smugly and lording it over him for about a week. But after the smugness faded, Tony gradually accepted Steve into his life, piece by piece.

Steve helped Tony out in the gym. Tony helped Steve out with all his new-fangled electronics. Steve started spending time in Tony's workshop, gave him someone to talk to. Tony started dragging Steve out into the world, taught him to enjoy the second chance he'd been given. Soon enough, they faded into something neither could deny was honest friendship.

Soon after, Tony's face started popping up in Steve's sketchbook.

He didn't think much of it, at first; he drew all of the Avengers. He drew the oblique curves of Clint's shoulders, his elbow propped and angled, eyes sharp with the intensity and focus only a target could provide him. He drew Natasha curled around a victim, her soft curves a direct contrast to the acute pain they inflicted, her eyes darkly perceptive. He drew the coiled power of Thor's stature and musculature, similar and different from his own in the same beat; less lithe, more pure dominance. He drew the haunted shadows of Bruce's face and the hunched lines of his shoulders, trying to capture the way he always seemed to make himself smaller, less intrusive.

There were also the crisp lines of Agent Coulson's suits, his hands tucked behind his back professionally as he cut them all to size in dry, clipped tones, and the blocky build of Nick leaning over the command table, his hands gesticulating wildly as he dealt out orders. Around month eight Bucky had been found and defrosted, and of course his cocky, square-jawed grin and darker, devil-may-care hair were all over the pages for a while.

But in the end, Tony kept taking over.

He'd start in on Natasha's darkly intelligent eyes, and before he knew it he was drawing the tense angles of Tony's jaw, the indulgent arc of his neck. He'd sketch out the broad lines of Clint's shoulders, and soon enough they'd expand into Tony's sculpted chest, the dip and curve of his abdomen, the curl of hair tucked under his navel.

He'd soon given up trying to stop.

Tony was, of course, oblivious. And who could blame him? Tony clearly had no interest in men, much less Steve; though he didn't have the parade of women coming and going the magazines claimed he did, Tony was still very much a ladies man. Steve saw it at every event, every party-the moment the suit came on, out came the charm, the charisma, the razzle dazzle.

Steve _hated _it.

"What's with the face, Iced Cappuccino?"

Tony was leaning back in his seat, tapping the pen against his scraped knuckles. When had he scraped his knuckles? Steve's mind was momentarily preoccupied, wondering how that could have happened; Tony hadn't taken his suit off in any of their recent battles. Then it hit him what Tony had said.

Steve raised a lazy eyebrow and tried not to smile, "Proud of that one?"

"Disappointed I didn't think of it earlier, actually. But what's up? You got that whole…" Tony waved a hand at Steve's general face area, "Broody aura about you."

"I'd hardly call it _brooding,_" Steve rolled his eyes.

"You were totally brooding," Tony nodded affirmatively.

"Thinking," Steve corrected.

"Brooodiiing~" Tony sing-songed.

"Whatever you say, smarty-pants," Steve rolled his eyes.

"Genius-pants, thank you," Tony smirked, "A genius that knows when something's up."

"Drop it, Tony," Steve just snorted. Because what was he supposed to say? _I'm really kind of jealous of that stupid pen you keep fondling and it's not the first time._

Though, it was by far the least rational.

He felt the same whenever they attended Avengers events these days, Tony striding in with a woman on each arm. It was a little different, with people; there was more fire to it, more intensity. When it was a person he was jealous of, it was more of a double-edged sword. He could feel the twist of aggression low in his stomach, the angry need to make them stop touching Tony hot on his tongue, but he could also feel desire, a steady thrum of magnetism drawing him to Tony, wishing to be the one under Tony's arm almost desperately.

He didn't like the feeling, of course, but at least it made _sense. _People got jealous all the time. It was petty and a bit silly and of course completely uncalled for, since Tony didn't belong to him in any sense of the word, but it was a normal reaction. As much as people tried to make him out as the picture perfect image of America, Steve was human, and he had human emotions like jealousy. Very…intense human emotions.

Bucky, of course, was no help at all.

It took him around three weeks after being defrosted to be declared medically stable enough to leave the hospital, and approximately seven seconds after seeing Steve and Tony in the same room, Bucky elbowed Steve and called him a dog. Steve of course flushed red as a fire truck and hauled Bucky away under the pretense of showing him his room at the Tower to whisper aggressively that he and Tony were _not _like that and Bucky'd better not say anything to him. Bucky had shrugged and grinned and altogether been not even remotely reassuring.

* * *

"Steve!" Tony called, his voice straining from overuse, "_Steve!"_

_Fuck. _

He fucking hated the cold.

The villain of the week, Freezmania or some other weird as shit name, had put the deep freeze on New York. It was blistering cold, and the snow was deep as fuck, so deep it covered some places entirely. Bruce had Hulked out early on, and was now leaping through the snow and helping dig out the snow from central locations like the police stations and hospitals. Natasha and Clint were sticking to the rooftops-all that was visible anymore in some areas-and working to find wherever Freezerfreak had disappeared to now.

Thor and Tony were supposed to be doing aerial pursuit while Steve and Bucky stayed on the Helicarrier. Steve had been here in the future for over a year now, Bucky almost two months, and in that time they'd been through rain, sleet, ice and snow. According to them and their respective therapists, they had a handle on the post-freeze PTSD; would they ever like the cold, maybe not, but in theory, they could function.

Regardless of that, they weren't currently needed in the field, so Coulson had given the tactical advisement that they stay on the Helicarrier. But, naturally, the idiots had conspired together and gotten off the plane, jumping into the fray like the headstrong dumbasses they were. They'd arrived on the field just in time for Steve to get in between Tony and Freezerfreak's ray of what-the-fuck-ever. Next thing anyone knew, Steve was missing, Bucky was flipping his lid, and everything was shot to hell.

Tony, of course, was _pissed._

Steve shouldn't have even fucking been there, and the damn idiot should never have gotten between Tony and that ray. Tony was encased in a metal suit for god's sake, he had exponentially higher chances of brushing off whatever the ray was meant to do. And hell knows he'd take a bullet for Steve any day, some stupid ray was no different.

He was in love with dumb fucker, after all.

Okay, so Tony might have been panicking.

He cursed again, swooping low over one of the emptier streets, and that's when he saw the crystalline figure encased in ice. His heart all but dropped out of his chest. Steve had already been frozen once, had his whole life destroyed by it; Tony couldn't imagine the fear Steve had to be feeling right then. He ducked down, all but crashing into Steve's frozen form.

"I've got him," Tony relayed over the com, "We were right, he's frozen."

"Well, fuck shit," Clint swore in his ear.

"How frozen?" Natasha questioned intently.

"Like…like some kind of ice statue. I think I've got this," Tony switched com lines, "JARV, set repulsors as low as they'll go, let's just get some heat without the beam, yeah?"

"Of course, sir."

That worked, and Tony set about defrosting the Captain. In less than a minute Steve was free, collapsing into Tony, his teeth chattering and his hands shaking violently. He gasped for air then choked on it, unable to fight the tears that sprang to his eyes.

"Hey, Steve, hey, it's okay, you're here, just breathe with me, okay?"

Steve's eyes were glossed over, his mind clearly a million miles away, so Tony kept talking, saying anything and everything that came to mind to get Steve to focus on him.

"T-tony?" Steve rasped at last, something hopelessly desperate in his voice. Tony could hear Steve's thoughts loud and clear as day; how much had he missed? Was this Iron Man still Tony, was he even still in the same century?

"Yeah, Steve, yeah," Tony looped both arms around Steve, hoisting him up, "It's Tony, I'm here, _you're _here, I got you. C'mon, there you go, one arm around me, let's get you up. Don't scare me like that you fucking idiot, do that again and I'll repulsor your ass, got it?"

"G-g-got it," Steve teeth chattered, just a hint of a smile curling on his lips.

Tony kept talking, but Steve just looped an arm over Tony's shoulders and leaned into Tony's steady grip around his waist with an exhausted sigh. After another few moments of babbling, Steve interrupted him softly.

"T-thank you, T-tony," Steve all but collapsed into him, "T-thank you so much."

"Don't be stupid," Tony huffed, "I'm always gonna save your dumb ass. Count on it."

"I…I can't," Steve's voice was nothing but a pained murmur, "I can't start over again, I-I'm not strong enough t-to…to put myself b-back together again, not like th-that."

"You won't have to-"

"You c-can't promise-"

"I'm Tony motherfucking Stark, what good is that if I can't promise my best friend he isn't gonna be cyrogenicized against his will again?" Tony hip-checked Steve lightly, "Steve, I have resources that dear old dad never dreamed of. If you get your dumb ass frozen, I will find you and unfreeze it. Simple as that."

"I'd h-hardly call that s-simple."

"Well, here's hoping you don't jump in front of a freeze ray again."

"I d-didn't know that's what it was-"

"So why didn't you let me take it?"

"W-what?"

"The ray. It was for me, and you pushed me," Tony frowned, "I'm encased in protective metal, you're flesh and bone. I'm the idiot who never follows orders, you're our beloved, courageous Captain. I had better odds of surviving whatever it might have been, and I'm a more expendable chess piece regardless. So _why?"_

"You're n-not _expendable_," Steve spluttered when he managed to get his breath, "Are you i-insane?"

"Come on, you can't tell me Iron Man isn't more expendable than Captain America."

"Well, I d-didn't save Iron Man," Steve shrugged in reply, a half-smile on his face, the earnest look in his eyes framed by still-frosty lashes.

Tony had no idea what to make of that.

* * *

"Touch anything, Barnes, and I will lock you in the freezer."

"Harsh, asshole," Bucky continued to parade through Tony's lab, stopping here and there to poke at odds and ends.

"Do you need something, or are you just here to touch my shit?" Tony sighed, giving up on his project to lean back in his chair and frown at the intruder.

"C'mon, you let Stevie boy sit down here for hours all the time, I walk in and first thing you do is tell me you're gonna lock me in a freezer?"

"What do you want, Barnes?" Tony drummed his fingers along the edge of his desk impatiently.

There was little love lost between him and Bucky Barnes. Sure, he could appreciate the guy's biting sense of humor, and there was no doubting he was an asset to the team, but on the whole, they generally avoided each other. They hadn't at first; in fact, if he'd made a guess about how they would get along judging by the first moment they'd met, he'd of actually assumed they'd get on pretty well. They had the same sense of humor, the same boisterous attitude, the same streak of immaturity they shared with Clint.

Then Tony found out the guy was a prick.

A couple days after moving in, Bucky made it his goal in life to be a little shithead to Tony whenever possible. Snarky comments, rough-housing, not to mention the annoying as fuck cockblocking. Well, uh, friendblocking, might be a better word, since he and Steve weren't _actually _together, not that Barnes childish behavior was helping.

If he and Steve were hanging out, Barnes was bound to crash the party. If they sat next to each other on the couch, Barnes wiggled his bony ass in between them. If Steve made Tony coffee, Barnes whined until Steve made him some too.

This behavior had not endeared the soldier to Tony.

Not to mention three days ago, when Freezerfreak had done his damage to Steve. They'd of course caught and cuffed the guy, but not before Tony had gone perhaps just a bit over the top on the beat-the-shit-out-of-him portion of the event. Afterwards he'd sought out Steve in medical, to talk to him and make sure he was okay, and Bucky had come in and told Tony to "quit hovering over Steve's boo-boos, he's a grown ass man".

Barnes, in Tony's humble opinion, could suck it.

"So was I was thinking it's about time you and I had a talk," Bucky leaned against the worktable nearest Tony.

"That's sweet of you, truly," Tony held a hand to his heart in mock pain, "Unfortunately, you're not even close to my type."

"And here I thought I had some of Stevie's rugged good looks," Bucky waggled his eyebrows lewdly.

"Don't flatter yourself," Tony snorted, before realizing his somewhat telling slip.

"I was just here to tell you the same thing," Bucky hummed.

"Oh?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Lay off Steve," Bucky warned, "He doesn't know what he's getting into."

"Oh really?" Tony pursed his lips, unimpressed.

"Yeah. Sure, he's courageous and a hero and all that smooth jazz when it comes to a battlefield but what _you're _after? When it comes to sex, that man is like a drowning cat."

"Sexy," Tony commented dryly.

"I'm serious, he's all innocent and shit. Sure, people were screwing in the 40's, but those people were not Steve Rogers. He didn't even get a kiss til the military buffed him up with super-juice, and even then, the way he tells the story, the blonde mouth raped him against a wall and Pegs gave him a peck, that's hardly-"

"I'm sorry, back up, _who _mouth raped him?"

"Are you seriously jealous of a dead woman right now?"

"I'm not jealous."

"Your clenched fists say otherwise."

"Just practicing for when I throw you out of my workshop on your ass."

"Throw me out if you want, but a guy like you's got no place screwing with a guy like him, and I'm not about to let you," Bucky challenged, "And if you tried, he'd knock your lights out!"

"A guy like me, huh?"

Admittedly, the punch your lights out line hit a little too close to home. Sure, Tony knew _rationally _that Steve wouldn't punch him if he found out Tony was in love with him, he wasn't that kind of person. But…there was still that tiny little thought in the back of his mind, the one that reminded him Steve was from a different time. A time where your best friend having homosexual feelings for you called for punching them. Right? Wasn't that what they did in the 40's? Fuck it all, Tony didn't know. He just knew Steve finding this out was a Very Bad Thing. Didn't mean he wanted to give up his right to pine over Steve like an idiot though.

"Wonder why that sounds familiar," Tony spun in his chair, "Guess we shouldn't have let you have internet privileges."

"Yeah, so I read a couple of articles," Bucky shrugged, "What of it? It's true, isn't it, Mr. Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist?"

"You forgot genius," Tony pointed out, aiming a screwdriver at Bucky, "And first off, three of those are good things. As for playboy, well, people change, don't they?"

"Do they?" Bucky eyed him warily.

"Hey JARV," Tony tilted his head up, "Wanna give me a date on the last time I brought a one night stand around?"

"Approximately five months and nineteen days ago, sir."

"I'm sorry, what were you bullshitting?" Tony smirked, though inwardly he was somewhat surprised. It certainly didn't feel that long.

"So the women of the future got tired of lookin' at your ugly mug," Bucky waved a hand, "That's hardly a surprise."

"Fuck off. And 'women of the future'? Why don't you just yell at me to get off your grass while you're at it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, were you calling _me_ old? Is that a grey hair I see, old man?" Bucky smirked.

"Please, I could kick your bony ass from here to the west coast," Tony growled.

"Prove it," Bucky raised his chin in a challenge.

"…" Tony paused a long moment, examining the brat a minute before hopping off his chair and bumping into Bucky aggressively, "You're on. And when I win, you get the fuck off my case about Steve."

"Sure, not that Steve would want anything to do with your punk ass anyway. And when _I_ win, you swear to keep your creepy old man hands offa my best friend."

"Square deal."

They shook on it, and there was a long pause as they assessed each other, neither willing to be the first to suggest they move it elsewhere. Then, with a loud battle cry, Bucky tackled Tony around the waist. They careened through the workshop, knocking over chairs and projects galore as they wrestled.

"I could kick your ass in my sleep!"

"You wish, Stark!"

"Yeah, well, _you _wish your hair didn't look so stupid!"

"If you think my hair-oof-is stupid, try a mirror, pointy-beard!"

"It's called a van dyke you-ow, fuck-righteous little prick!"

"You're a van dyke!"

"And you're an idiot!"

"Your mom's an idiot!"

"Shut your whore mouth, don't you bring my mom into this!"

"Fucking hell-_oof!"_

"That's what you get for being an assbutt!"

"Even your insults suck, fuckhead!"

"It was a pop culture reference, you uncultured swine!"

"Did you just call me a pig? You're the pig, you hormone-crazed slut!"

"I haven't even slept with him yet!"

"And you never will if I kill you before you get a chance!"

"Holy mother of god my spleen!"

"How you like me now, motherfuc-_oh fucking hell-"_

"Suck on that, you little shit!"

"Oo aahfath, I nee dat, giff it bag an gef yer knee ou mah mouff!"

"No, not until you let me sleep with Steve!"

"Neffer!"

"What in the Sam heck do you two think you're doing?"

Both men froze. Tony had one knee in Barnes' mouth while he held Bucky's mechanical arm triumphantly out of reach above his head, and Bucky had his free hand around Tony's neck while he gnawed viciously at Tony's knee. Bucky had a split lip and bruises around his wrist, Tony was hunched over like he'd been hit in the gut and had a nice bright shiner already forming.

"It's not what it looks like?" Tony tried weakly.

"I lub oo Stebe?" Bucky attempted.

"Tony, get your knee out of Bucky's mouth. Buck, get your hand off Tony's neck," Steve ordered, and the two spared only a quick glance at each other before complying.

"Sorry Steve," they chimed.

"Bucky, scram," Steve shot him a look, "We'll talk later."

"But, Steve, I really think we should talk now cause there's a thing you should know-"

"I think I got it, Buck," Steve just sighed, edging past Bucky, "Tony, can I speak to you?"

"Um, well, maybe? I don't know, shouldn't I go to medical first?" Tony backed away carefully while Bucky scampered out, "I think I should go to medical, don't you? Your friend is very violent, it was really all him and okay maybe some me and I'm very very sorry for that but how much did you hear exactly please god don't hit me-"

"Don't _hit _you?"

"Don't hit me if you heard things I wasn't gonna say anything about it cause you're straight and I'm all me but Bucky got up in my face and I-"

"You're all 'you'?"

"I always fuck this type of shit up and I'm aggressive and I push people away and I make all the wrong moves and I shouldn't even _make _any moves towards you because straight and-"

"How eloquent."

"Okay you're not saying anything helpful right now, so am I in trouble slash are we still friends slash are you gonna hit me?"

"Why do you keep asking if I'm going to hit you?"

"I don't know, that's what Bucky said you'd do."

"Bucky's an idiot."

"I _know _that."

"So are you going to kiss me or not?"

"I'm sorry _what?_"

Steve delivered the line with a completely blank face, while Tony choked on his own spit.

"I said," unable to hold it back any longer, a smile curled over Steve's lips, "Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"And I said _what? _Oh my god, I'm hallucinating, aren't I? Your idiot friend hit me so hard I'm actually hallucinating holy fuc-"

Then Steve's hand was wrapped around the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair as he pulled him into a rough, needy kiss. Tony could feel the hint of Steve's smile, the bite of teeth over his lower lip, and he let himself get lost in the wonderful, intoxicating heat of the kiss. Steve released him briefly, long enough to give Tony a steady, possessive look.

"I make my own decisions. No more of this fighting with Bucky over my hand bullshit."

"You just swore," Tony blinked.

"That's really what you're focusing on right now?" Steve chuckled, tucking his fingers into Tony's pockets and pulling him forward so that their hips aligned.

"I'm a little giddy, to be fair," Tony shrugged with a grin, snaking his arms around Steve's waist.

"You're ridiculous," Steve smiled fondly.

"Can we kiss again?"

"You don't have to ask, Tony," Steve laughed.

"I'm still just trying to wrap my mind around the fact that you actually kissed me."

"I think," Steve leaned in, his lips ghosting over Tony's, "I can help with that."


End file.
